Our “middle” Ethan turned 4 yesterday. I’ve said it before and I will always believe that he is adventure personified. He has the sweetest way about him, and watching him sneak a kiss on top of his baby brother’s head always makes me smile. When we catch him doing things like that, the look in his face always says, “Just be cool guys!” He is an incredible kid.

This year his progress has left us in awe. His communicative and social skills are developing at such a pace that we are watching him flourish. It is an unfolding heart that as we begin to see inside we have even deeper understanding of who our son is. That feeling leaves me breathless. That feeling leaves me awash with new hope.

We celebrated Ethan with some of the people who love him and our family most in the world. We had the best time, and he was so excited- about his birthday cake! This year that’s just what he wanted, and as soon as he saw it, he got in his seat, with a plate, ready to go!

Part of this delay is that it makes it harder to connect abstract language so directions like, “Blow out the candles,” are not easy to understand. Yesterday, Ethan loved getting to have us sing happy birthday to him, and he, without help at all, blew out his candles! That connection happened. He understood, and then he did it. Something so “simple” may not seem like a big deal in your house, but my heart just about burst wide open when this moment happened. It was incredible. It was another testament to how far we’ve come and where we’re headed. I could not be more proud.

Ethan, you will always be my guy and my pal. I hope you always love to sing and dance with Justin Timberlake and Bruno Mars. I hope that each year we add another candle to your cake, we know more and more about your beautiful heart, and that you know how deeply thankful we are for you and your life. You are a gift and a blessing and a joy, and momma loves you all the time- always, no matter what!

The first “series” I ever wrote was about my kids and their struggle (and our struggle) with having expressive language delays. For anyone out there who has faced additional challenges with their kids, whatever that looks like, you know how world shattering and devastating and downright hard that can be. But hope.

Hope abounds. Even in the struggle, hope is not lost. Hope brings with it new opportunities to look at where you’ve been and to be thankful for where you are.

My children are amazing. I love them so much. When I think about them, their verbal struggles aren’t even close to the top of the list of what I think makes them who they are. Even when I think about the struggle, my focus always lands on how strong they are and how hard they work. If I think about anything negative, I usually think about me. Where I am not always patient (even with the just day to day kid stuff), where I fail to see what they are trying to communicate and how frustrating that can be for all of us, and how impatient I can be in just wanting their progress to happen right now. I just want to give them everything and make it all okay in an instant. Mommas want to fix. We want to make it all alright right now. It hurts to see our babies struggle with tying a shoe or falling off a bike, and we want to make it all better right now. We would turn ourselves inside out to give them that- to make them instantly better.

That’s not how our story has gone, but that doesn’t eliminate all the beautiful hope in it. It has been a process that has taken time, but in some ways, I feel like once the progress really took off, we’ve never looked back and things began to happen more quickly.

Today, Ethan sings songs! What that does for my heart, I can’t begin to describe. To hear him sing just lifts a place in me. He tells me he loves me. That. Each time he does, those moments become some of the best in my life. He is communicating socially more and more, and he is positively thriving at school. He has won the hearts of his teachers a million times over. Gymnastics is his jam, and he is able to show so much focus and is following directions like never before. I am so proud of my pal.

Lauren’s progress also inspires new hope in me as well. When I think about where we started in devastation after those horrible gymnastics classes (see Words: Part One), I can’t speak enough about how grateful I am for where she is today. She is scoring off the charts in every academic area, she is communicating her thoughts and feelings, she has developed an amazing sense of humor, she is making friends, she is growing in independence, and she mastered every kindergarten concept before Christmas break. She is an excellent student, and she is also excellent to the kids in her class. SHE IS COMMUNICATING AT THE SAME LEVEL AS HER PEERS HER AGE! She shows them such love and empathy.

When I re-read the first post I wrote about all of this today as it popped I my Facebook memories, I wept out of being thankful. I wept because my children are living, breathing miracles who are filled with such raw tenacity, I am inspired by them and their courage.

It takes courage to do the work they’ve done to make the progress they have. It takes people caring and loving and being in it with us. You know who you are, and you will always be a part of our story. It takes parents who know they won’t always get it right never giving up on them. We are in it with them. We are for them, and we love them all the time.

We have so much to be thankful for in our sweet little family. That gratitude inspires more and more hope in us all them time. That hope lights the path that we will continue walking on the way to helping our kids become whoever they are meant to be. I can’t wait to see where we all end up, and no matter what that place is, I can’t wait to get there- together.

I think we’re bad at noticing miracles. I think anything that doesn’t happen with the speed of snapping our fingers is easier to write off and overlook.

The best real life example of this from my life is my children’s speech progress. Lauren and Ethan have both come so far that it’s easier to look back and see the answered prayers and miracle their progress has been; it’s been harder to see it in the midst of it.

In the midst of the challenges, it’s been harder than I can accurately describe. It’s been hard to be patient, it’s been hard to hold on to hope when things seem like they aren’t progressing, and it’s been hard to believe that they would.

It’s defeating for something as simple as your child to not be able to tell you something hurts or they don’t feel well to not be possible. Those things hurt in a deep place, and in those moments we want that over now. We don’t want the hurt. We want our miracle, and we want it now.

Why? It’s like the microwave. That’s what we’re used to. Instant gratification. Less work to get what we want. What if God was teaching all of us something in the midst of these challenges?

What if He was teaching us to pray and wait? What if He was teaching us to trust in Him and His timing? What if He was making us better, more patient and loving parents? What if He was building in us foundations of unconditional love? What if He was teaching us what it means to never give up on someone?

Those are all the things I really believe I’ve had to learn to support and love Lauren and Ethan both through these difficult seasons. We aren’t finished working on their speech yet, but I look at my miracles in progress and feel nothing but deep love and adoration for who they are becoming.

I’m thankful for moments when Ethan can tell me he wants a snack or needs to potty differently than most people probably are. Lauren being able to have long conversations like the one she had with Rob before the Daddy Daughter Dance this weekend fill us up in a way that is breathtaking!

I actually hate hearing people complain about their kids talking too much or about being annoyed by their persistent talking. If all that was there was silence, they would feel so differently. Each word would feel like the biggest win! I’ve learned to celebrate the seemingly small things with all the gusto of someone who just won the Super Bowl. That’s what those moments feel like to me. They are the biggest wins ever.

If you’re sitting in a hard season with your kids or your job or your marriage, I would challenge you to press in and look at these from this place.

I also pray with our kids and every night I tell them I can’t wait to hear what they have to say. As they say more and that dream becomes more realized, I’m thankful. I’m not thankful because it’s happening quickly. I’m thankful because it’s happening at all, and in the midst of it, I don’t want to miss seeing it unfold. Slow down. Watch it happen right in front of you.

It will change you. The miracles that happen in you through it all will shape you if you let them. Let them. Let them make you better. Let them make you appreciate more than you do right now. Let them happen in their time, and don’t miss a single second of being grateful.

My oldest boy Ethan has my heart strings looped around his fingers. His smile lifts me on the worst of days. He is always moving fast and full throttle no matter what he does, but he has this sincere kindness to him that gives me hope that I am raising the kind of person who will care enough to change the world.

He has always been a momma’s boy. He has always loved to snuggle me when he first wakes up. He loves to be outside so he can run and climb. He has always been my pal. He has also never been able to really verbally communicate with me until very recently.

I’ve written about the challenge words have been in our home, and now I want to share some celebration through them.

As odd as it sounds, Ethan has gained much more verbal and non-verbal communication skills than he’s ever had in his whole life, and in that, I finally feel like I’m getting to know my son.

That’s even hard to type. My sweet friend Becca said I’ve always known his needs in a way only a mom could, and she’s right. The difference think I’ve settled on is that now I’m getting to know his heart.

That’s huge. That’s changed his affection toward us and others around him. Just to see him wave AND say, “Hi” makes me more proud of him than I could be of anything I’ll ever accomplish myself.

As he communicates and connects more, I see he has a great sense of humor, and really cares about those around him. If his brother cries, he’ll ask, “Are you okay?” He’ll bring him a toy or kiss his head.

That. That may seem small, but it’s the biggest, brightest spot in our world because it brings with it hope. Hope that as we continue on this journey with him, we will get to know him more and more. Every night when I pray for him, I pray for God to give him words. I always tell him that I can’t wait to hear what he has to say.

I have known parents who view their children as an extension of themselves. They see them as something to shine up and show off in their accomplishments or to hide away in their challenges. Those challenges are not a reflection of failure in you that you should be ashamed of, but they are an opportunity to be there for your child in a way that’s not about you. They will never forget how you supported or advocated for them, but they will also always know if you are embarrassed or ashamed of them because of any difference.

Before Ethan was ever born, we prayed and prayed so many things for him. This is the verse that inspired his name, written by Ethan the Ezrahite:

“I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations. I will declare that your love stands firm forever, that you have established your faithfulness in heaven itself.” Psalm 89:1-2

I have hope more and more each day for this. Words are really how you get to know someone, and through that their hearts are revealed.

Every single bit of progress in his speech development feels like unfolding and revealing something beautiful that’s been tucked away tightly. Every new word shows us a bit more who Ethan is, and who he is becoming.

As I get to know him, I am filled with gratitude and awash with new love and a depth of feeling that’s beyond words that doesn’t have to have description. For today, just resting in that is beautiful, and I am thankful.

Saying it’s been a hectic month doesn’t seem intense enough a statement for what life has looked like, but saying things are going good doesn’t seem like a positive enough one either.

As we get settled after moving back across the country, I’m thinking back over the last week, and my heart is still rejoicing over one moment in particular that shifted my vision and reminded me of God’s heart.

I was driving to pick my niece up from the airport, and I was praying out loud. I remember our pastor Bob encouraging us to do that. He talked about the freedom and the power in just saying and hearing your heart pour out to the Lord. I’ll admit, it felt super awkward at first, but now it feels like freedom. I find myself being more honest out loud. There’s something in that where being willing to get over the first awkward part really frees you up to be honest in ways you may not know you need to be.

As I was praying, I prayed about the kid’s new schools. I prayed for loving teachers who will “get” them and help them. I also thanked God for the miracle that is their continued progress and asked for more. I prayed and talked about the hurt in my heart for not hearing their voices or knowing what they need or think all the time because they can’t just always tell me. I told God how hard it was and how I longed to hear them.

Then I still, small voice whispered to my heart, “I know what it means to long to hear from your children.” That went off like a bomb in my heart and mind. It was the voice that said I know your hurt. It was the voice that said you aren’t alone in this. It was the voice that said I can heal this hurt because I know it. It was the voice that invited me into more time and depth with my Abba Father.

This revelation has given me renewed hope in this struggle. He’s there, listening, caring, and responding when I call out. He’s there for you too. In all of this struggle, I have to always remember that as an heir and daughter of God the most important thing I can do is sit with Him, be honest with Him, and trust His father heart.

I’m thankful for this moment that affirmed so much for me, and I’m thankful for all that God has done to show me He loves me.

We just went on our whirlwind trip back to the place I call home this side of heaven: Texas. Texas is where I was born and raised, and it’s where a good bit of our family and friends are. I have been looking forward to scooting across Texas for months, and it really was a blessing to be there. One of my favorite moments of the whole trip was something I could have never have seen coming, but I will tuck it close to my heart forever.

This year has been a year where I have come to hate cancer more than ever. I deeply hate it. Over the course of this year we have prayed for a baby girl named Hadlee who passed away, a little girl named Olivia who we found out passed right as we got settled in San Angelo, and for Ms. Carol, the sweet mom of a friend who has become a friend. All three have been battling cancer, and we have prayed for them each day. I try to be very intentional about praying with our kids and explaining to them why that’s important.

This trip, Ms. Carol was in the hospital so we went up to visit because we wanted to let some cute babies put a smile on her face, we wanted her to know that she’s loved, and because we wanted to pray with her while we were there and could.

We all laughed while visiting, and she learned way more about Moana than she probably ever intended to! It was such a sweet time to just get to be with her. When our visit was winding down, I asked if we could pray with her, and the second she said yes, Lauren stepped forward in complete boldness and said, “I’ll pray!”

Her prayer wasn’t long. Her prayer wasn’t searching for “the right words.” It was the most sincere prayer I have probably ever heard. It overwhelmed me to witness this. My five year old daughter stepped out in authority and confidence to intercede out behalf of someone. She immediately stepped up to serve and bless Carol by just talking to God in a way that reflected an ease in communicating her heart to Him. I will never stop being blown away by how beautiful that moment was.

So often as grown ups, I think we forget prayer is just supposed to be that easy. It’s not about anything but that. I am thankful for that reminder. I am thankful for God growing and developing seeds in the lives of my children that are paving a path for how they will walk with Him all their days. I hope she always holds onto the beautiful ease of talking to God like her closest friend.

After she prayed I said that no one could have said anything better than that, and that was the truth. Carol prayed over us, and we said our see you laters. I wanted to go in so this visit could be a blessing to Carol, but I was stunned by God’s grace to me in giving me a moment like this to hold onto.

Two years ago Lauren wasn’t verbal enough to do this. I can’t tell you how many tears I have shed watching her struggle to express herself. I can’t tell you how heartbreaking that experience has been- with both my oldest babies. To see her just step out and clearly communicate her thoughts is something that God made possible through putting Lauren exactly where she needed to be, and by giving her people who could help her get to this place. I could never express my gratitude for the people who have helped her in this season that’s been so hard on my momma heart.

Sometimes it feels like we are spinning our wheels. Sometimes it feels like some of the things we are teaching our kids aren’t getting through. Hold fast! Continue in the good work you are doing! When God raises them up in moments like this you will know why you were called to love and parent like God loves and parents you.

I hope you all find encouragement here to stay in the good fight and to know that someday the harvest from your work will really begin to bloom!

Words. These are words I have had a hard time finding for a while now. In a sense I am completely cognizant of the emotions they are tied to because I’ve lived with them so long, but I haven’t been able to find the words that can express these well-worn feelings. It’s something in the deepest parts of me, and it’s something that hurts.

For a long time I didn’t share because I felt so alone in it. It was a lonely, isolating feeling to have felt something so strongly that could not be conveyed. This pain wasn’t just mine, and that was the problem. As I have drowned and struggled for words, like air, to understand what I felt, my babies struggled for words of their own.

It started about three years ago. We went to Lauren’s first gymnastics class, and it did not go well. We sat down and thought maybe it was separation anxiety, but as weeks progressed and she seemed more lost in everything around her, there was something that left us unsettled, and we had to face it. There was something more.

I had to face it after trying to go to class with her to see if I could help her connect in a way that Rob couldn’t. I failed hard. She was overwhelmed and frustrated trying to understand and follow the directions being given to her. I was frustrated with her because I thought she was just not listening. This was not a struggle at home, but she shut down hard in this new environment. She couldn’t, and we couldn’t understand why.

We went to her next pediatrician’s appointment, and talked to our doctor. She said that we should do an evaluation to see if maybe Lauren had a developmental delay. The first evaluation done was a nightmare that was bigger than the terror we felt in knowing there could be something that was going to give Lauren challenges we weren’t sure how to face.

Rob took her to the evaluation because Ethan had strep and one of us had to stay home. We were in a new place without a support system of any kind trying to get through one of the hardest things any parent could face. The lady at the appointment worked with Lauren trying to get her to answer questions for a few minutes before she grabbed her and tried to force her into a chair. Like most three year olds, being grabbed by a stranger terrified her and she lost it. My husband immediately stepped in and ended the evaluation. After less than five minutes of consideration, the lady scribbled the word “autism” on a piece of paper and tried to say Lauren would need more evaluating by a team of five. We opted to not continue with this medical practice because there was no way a child can be diagnosed responsibly with a cold in eight minutes, and this person who was brash and unconcerned tried to give Lauren a diagnosis that made her life and paperwork easier. We prayed and knew this wasn’t the place that would help Lauren. We talked to friends who were educators who knew Lauren and they backed our feeling that what happened wasn’t right.

We were so fortunate to call our doctor’s office and have her agree that this was inappropriate and probably not correct. She referred us to our local school district to see if being in a more social environment along with speech therapy would help Lauren be more communicative. Her loving investment in my daughter cracked the door to a world that changed everything for us. On the other side we found a teacher named Megan.

Megan invited us to meet her after we got set up for Lauren to be evaluated in her classroom. She was so incredibly warm and sweet that first meeting, and Lauren was so glad to meet her and check out the classroom. It was an incredible feeling to see Lauren go into a space so different than the first evaluation and engage it. It was the first flicker of hope that this could help us get her the tools she needed.

The next step was to take her for the in-class evaluation where she would attend for three weeks to see if that environment and speech therapy would be services that would help her. It was a rough start because it was a whole new place and new people, and it was the first time she had ever been left alone with people she hadn’t known her whole life. In that really hard start, Megan never failed to be supportive and kind. Robyn and Angie who also worked/work in the class have become two people who we will always love because of how loved they make Lauren feel; they have hung in there with us for over two years, and I could never express my gratitude. Lauren also got to start working with the speech therapist Chelsie at the school. Chelsie is a treasure. Lauren says all the time that Ms. Chelsie loves her. She talks about the fun she has with her, and because of Chelsie, she’s able to do that. I don’t know that you can adequately thank someone who does for your child what Chelsie has done for Lauren, but the gratitude I feel knows no bounds. It is a great thing to have people who love your child partner in helping them through challenges that they don’t know how to face; challenges you don’t know how to face.

Lauren finished her evaluation, and it was discovered that she has an expressive language delay. Another other term for this is “late talker” or simply put, it means she has a hard time sharing what she’s thinking or feeling – especially with abstract parts of language. In turn it makes understanding or processing those same abstract parts of speech more challenging. We talked about a plan to help her gain skills and best next steps to do everything we could to see her develop and succeed. This classroom and this team were the one we prayed for, and we’ve never looked back. Lauren has made tremendous strides and progress, and at the end of the school year last year, we had so much to celebrate on behalf of Lauren in the midst of a new devastating revelation: Ethan was almost two and seemed to be behind verbally as well.

The truth is that every child has a challenge, and this was the one that would be most real for our kids. This is where they would need us to rise up to support and advocate for them.